


Prevention is Worse than Cure

by BloodyAbattoir



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2013-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-05 22:11:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1834024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodyAbattoir/pseuds/BloodyAbattoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Without her, I am nothing. I see no option but to return to my old friend. Alcohol.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prevention is Worse than Cure

She left me today. Just walked out of my life, saying she never wanted to see me or talk to me again. Saying she was sick and tired of me. Of my being such a failure. Of my being the gruesome stain on her otherwise perfect life.   
  
Of course, I couldn't deal with what had become my life. She was my everything, all I had to live for, She meant everything to me, my one and only, the only one I ever loved. She made my life worth living. Without her, I was nothing. Empty. There was a huge void in my life now. I saw no choice, but to turn to my old friend, who I had had absolutely nothing to do with since I had met her. Alcohol.   
  
As I picked up the glass bottle, half full of amber liquid, I couldn't help but let out a set of dry, choking sobs. I'd promised her never again. I'd kept that promise, too. Til now.   
  
I knew I was going to get severely wasted tonight. The hangovers were killer though. I didn't want to wake up to that pain again, especially if she wasn't going to be here to take care of me. So guess that I should take care of myself before I started my downward spiral along the road that I'd been down one too many times.   
  
So out of my medicine cabinet comes the bottle of aspirin, and the top comes off. A few tiny white pills spill into my hand, and are tossed into my mouth. But these aspirin rarely work well. I always have to take so many to get them to kick in. So I take a couple more, washing them down with a palmful of water from the tap. My headaches after drinking so much like I plan to do tonight are always killer, so a few more should take care of it. The pills feel like they're stuck in my throat, so I put the bottle down, only to snatch it back up again. When I was placing it down, I had caught sight of the expiration date.   
  
They had expired months ago. A cold feeling rand own my back. They wouldn't work, and I'd just be worse off than before.  
  
So I poured another handful of the little painkillers into my palm, swallowing them down with more tap water. There, that should do it. I wouldn't get another godawful headache in the morning. I set down the now empty plastic bottle on the side of the sink, the thought of what might happen if I was wrong about these aspirin being crappy and not working much if at all. But the worry was quickly quenched by heartbreak. It didn't matter if I died, because without her, I had no reason to live.   
  
This thought fortifying me as much as such a thought could, I picked up my bottle of rum, unscrewing the cap from the bottle. The metal made a strange ringing noise. I felt like this was all wrong, but I refused to stop. It didn't matter anymore. I couldn't live without her. Go ahead, rip out my heart. It stopped beating when she said she no longer loved me.   
  
I trip out of the bathroom, and into our... my bedroom now, my old friend in one hand. Maybe I could pretend she's just coming home late. After all, she didn't take everything with her, just enough for a night or two.   
  
So I crawl into bed, one of her worn sweaters in hand, on her side of the bed, just breathing in her scent. God, she hadn't even been gone for 48 hours and I was already like this. I'm just cringing to think how horrible I'll be this time next week.   
  
I lay back, taking another sip of the vile liquid. It looks like honey, but tastes so far from it. Another gulp or 5, and the bottle is now empty. I toss it onto the floor in disgust. Even that wouldn't stick around for me apparently.   
  
Everything starts to grow dark and fuzzy around the edges, so I close my eyes, and just focus on breathing, in and out.   
  
I can pretend she's right next to me. I can pretend the events of yesterday never happened. I can pretend she still loves me. I can pretend life is perfect. I can pretend so much.   
  
Soon enough, I'm asleep. When I wake, I'm hovering in the corner of the room, right below the ceiling. She's there, standing over the bed, screaming, crying, begging me to wake up, asking why I did it, apologizing for leaving, saying she didn't mean it, it was only for a short time. I float closer, and whisper to her, "Because I couldn't live without you."  
  
Somehow, I think she understood.


End file.
